


Squad Goals

by Kaelynisfree



Series: Fade Breakout AU [6]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins, Mass Effect
Genre: Endearingly Slutty Hawke, Everyone's a fuckup, Fade Breakout AU, Multi, Nonbinary Hawke - Freeform, Other, Paragon Commander Shepard, Past Hawke/Isabela, Shepard in Thedas, Warden Brosca - Freeform, besides shepard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 09:58:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7635856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaelynisfree/pseuds/Kaelynisfree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hero of the Citadel, the Hero of Ferelden, and the Champion of Kirkwall go into a bar. Well, first they die, then they go to a bar which is followed by them breaking out of said bar and make their way to Kirkwall, because where else would a motley crew like that go to get their bearing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kirkwall sucks. It really does. The moment you think you’re finally done punching the evil out, it seeps back from the walls like black mold. With Hawke gone, Aveline thought the trouble might… quiet down a little, but it turns out they were not the only magnet for trouble. 

The city itself seems to fight her some days. Worse than any street gang.

First Starkhaven’s shit and now… Aveline looks down at the report given to her that morning. Disappearances. Multiple disappearances. Her fingers crumple the paper at the edges. Not again. Not in  _ her _ city, Maker damn them.

She scratches notes in the margins, feeling out the edges of a plan. She’ll need extra patrols, and schedule alterations to free enough of her guards.

Aveline’s concentration is broken with the thud of her office door hitting the wall. Guardswoman Geraldine throws up a salute in the doorway, panting. She’s clearly disheveled from running. 

“Captain!” She gets out between breaths. “I have a report!”

“Report it, then!” Aveline responds, rising from her desk. Guardswoman Geraldine was on messenger’s post at the dock gates. Odd that she would leave her post.

“A group at the gate, Captain, small but armed, and their leader is,” she huffs in a breath, “claiming to be Champion Hawke. Asked for you personally. Has the same face.”

That is not what Aveline had been expecting, if she’d been expecting anything at all. “What.”

“They say they won’t leave til they speak to you, Captain,” Geraldine replies, “Guardsman Tanner is holding them at the gate, and would like further orders, ser.”

She leans on the desk with a heavy sigh. “And Guardsman Tanner is sure that this imposter looks like… the Champion.”

Geraldine nods rapidly, then adjusts her helmet. “Yes, Captain. Red kaddis and all.”

“I need you to go back the gate with a full patrol; take Nolan, Tess, Ricard, and Maewyn. Escort  _ the Champion _ and their group to the Hanged Man in Lowtown. Take back routes if you can.”

Aveline spouts her plan as it comes to her. “I’ll need send a runner to the Hanged Man. We need it cleared. Also, a runner to the Alienage- I want the Keeper there. Fully informed.” 

Guardswoman Geraldine nods, mouthing along to the orders. “Anything else, Captain?”

“No matter what they say, make sure they come to the Hanged Man with you. Alright?”

Geraldine snaps off another salute. “Got it, Ser!” She says, and promptly trots out the door to round up the patrol.

Even before the door shuts, Aveline pulls out her sword and shield. Hawke or no, it was going to be an interesting day. Joy.


	2. It's Called Sneaking, Not Sucking

In all their years in Kirkwall, Hawke has _never_ seen the Hanged Man completely empty. Sure, there had been days in which patronage was low, with only the regulars milling about as Corff chattered on and on about his latest writing project, because, yes, he fancied himself an _author_ don’t you know, but there was always someone trying not to puke in the corner. It’s never been completely empty. So this is eerie.

Hawke sits in their normal spot at the bar, wondering if someone had to pry Corff’s legs away to make him leave. Wasn’t he glued to the floor or something? Hawke misses the bartender’s nonsensical chatter. And that no one is serving drinks. Hawke needs three. At least three. They’d even take something from _Norah_ right now.

A new friend sits next to Hawke, shifting on the barstool in order to get both the doorway and the two guards posted in the corner in her sightline. Hawke assumes she could _also_ use about three drinks, although, judging by the kind of alcohol she’s told them about, Hawke isn’t sure she would accept the watered down swill the Hanged Man serves.

Her armor scratches against the wood, creating an unfamiliar sound. It’s not the creaking of metal or the squeaking of leather, but something they’ve never heard before. She tsks when she notices them staring at her.

“I told you, Hawke,” the woman says, focus remaining at the entryway. “It’s a plastic polymer.”

“Still don’t know what that is,” they say, wishing desperately for a drink in their hand. “But I thought I left you a pair of leathers to wear when we got into the city.” Hawke speaks low so that the guards in the corner cannot hear. “You know, so we could be incognito.”

Shepard scoffs, shifting once more in her seat as Hawke resists the urge to poke at her dark grey shell. “From the way you talked about this place, I wasn’t going to take a chance. Besides, putting a hood over your trademark armor isn’t really going incognito either.”

“I am _great_ at disguises. That guardswoman was just good at her job.”

The guards in the corner snicker and Hawke gives them a thumbs-up, just as the door of the Hanged Man swings open. Normally the clang heavy armor of heavy armor would be covered up by the ambient noise of drunks wailing into their ales, but it is stark against the silence. Unnatural is what that is.

Aveline, however, is the opposite of unnatural, a force of nature when she strides through the door, eyes towards the bar, a surprised look at finding exactly what she thought she might. Hawke can’t help but be in awe of the Guard Captain. It’s been too long since they’ve seen her face.

The first thing Hawke notices about Aveline is that she is still very tall. Like. Extremely tall. Too tall. Had she gotten new boots for her armor? They’ll ask when they’re done being in complete awe of their friend.

The next thing they notice is that she looks exhausted. It’s easiest to just blame Kirkwall for that one. It's not like Hawke has been around to drag her out of the office now and again.

Aveline stares at them in silence, her face betraying nothing. So, of course, in the true Hawke fashion, they decide to speak first.

“ _Aveline._ It has been too long. _Too long._ You should sit and have a drink while we catch up…” Hawke belatedly remembers the lack of a bartender. “Oh wait, we can’t have a drink because you somehow managed to empty out the _entire Hanged Man_.”

Odd of her, really. Also impressive, but that’s Aveline. “You’ll have to tell me how you managed it sometime because-”

They’re going a mile a minute, partly nerves, partly because it’s exciting to finally be with someone _familiar_. Hawke has missed her so much, and the relief at seeing family in the flesh nearly has them crying in joy.

Aveline’s voice is soft, but breaks through. “Hawke?”

They can’t stop talking. It really is a problem. “Because it just isn’t right. There are usually at least six people vomiting in that corner,” Hawke continues, gesturing. “How did you do it? Did you have to get a crowbar to pry Corff up from the dried ale slop? Did you at least tip him very well?”

She purses her lips, eyes narrowing at them. “Could you please just-”

“You know, sitting here alone with just two guards, in silence, I almost expected assassins to show up and murder me and my friend here…” Hawke motions towards Shepard, who responds with a shrug.

Hawke looks over the bar, and begins to reach for mugs. “Do you think Corff’ll mind if I serve myself, I really _could_ use a drink-”

“Please shut up for a moment and let me think?!” Aveline stamps her foot on the ground, her jaw clenching. She is definitely betraying something now. Anger. She is betraying anger. Hawke could place that look anywhere. It isn't hard.

They stop, hands empty as they sprawl halfway over the bar in an attempt to reach the mugs, and really they probably should have just gotten up and gone around, but once the words stop falling out of their mouth, Hawke notices that Aveline’s hand grips the hilt of her sword, and is that… a tear welling up in her eye?

This how one fucks up, isn’t it?

They eye Shepard and find that she too has her hand hovering over her… gun thing.... _Weapon_. Oh, this is not good. Not surprising, but also very _not good_.

Hawke takes a deep breath, eyes never leaving Aveline’s. It’s best not to flinch. So they slowly, very slowly, straighten back up and remain silent until Aveline is finally ready to speak.

“Are you Hawke?” She asks, attempting to blink away the tears. “Because the last I heard, Hawke was dead.”

Hawke gulps and sheepishly smiles.

She is having none of it. “I got a letter from Varric.”

“I got better?” They offer with a shrug.

“The letter was _covered_ _in tears_.” Her voice breaks and she tries to cover it up with a cough.

They cast their eyes away unable to keep their glib mask on for their friend. _Shit._ How long had they been gone? Long enough for Aveline to receive a letter from Skyhold, which meant it had been at least a month, if not more.

“If it makes you feel better, I was only _mostly_ dead. I mean, physically trapped in the Fade, yes, but dead? Probably not.”

Aveline puts a hand up for Hawke to stop. “Tell me, whoever… or whatever you are _._ What was the first thing Hawke ever said to me?”

Well, that’s not a question they were hoping she would ask. They narrow their eyes at her and try to remember. “Well… uh… you see, that is a very awkward question, Aveline. Do you mean like, the first thing I said when your first husband was trying to turn my sister in as apostate,” they're stalling, wracking their brain for the memory. “Or the conversation we had when I finally stopped throwing up on the boat on the way over…?”

Her jaw remains frozen in a hard scowl.

“Look, are you talking about before or after Wesley helped us kill darkspawn?”

She gives away nothing, and crosses her arms. Hawke is losing her and fast.

“Aveline, that ten years ago! More than ten years ago, depending on how long I’ve been dead!”

She nearly growls, her hand returning to her hilt. Shit, these are all things in Varric’s book, aren’t they? Hawke clenches their fist, trying to remember something, anything, that only Aveline and they would know. Shepard too takes a defensive stance from her seat. Hawke is sweating now. Why couldn’t anything ever be easy?

“You expect me to believe something you could have read in Varric’s book? Give me something. Something that only Hawke and I would know,” Aveline growls.

_Working on it._

But nothing comes to mind, so Hawke throws their hands up in defense. “Okay, okay, the Inquisitor saves us from a collapsing bridge by throwing us physically in the Fade, right?”

“I know the details _._ Hawke was left to fight the Nightmare while the others escaped. _A demon_. It was in the letter.”

Hawke sucks in a breath. Fuck. One more wrong move and they are probably dead for real. “It was _very_ heroic, Aveline.”

“Of course it was,” she says through clenched teeth.

“Okay! So... Ah!” They stop and start, trying fast to think of something to get her to calm down. And themself, because this shit is stressful.

“This is not helping, is it?” they ask, buying time.

“Not one bit.”

“Sorry.” Hawke taps their fingers on the table, trying to think of something.

“Oh! You remember when I got impaled by the Arishok, and everyone thought I was dead, but then I got up and said, ‘Kirkwall will not be yours today’ before shoving the pointy end of my staff into his eyes?”

She hesitates.  “Yes.”

“Well, being left in the Fade was like that, but even more heroic?” Hawke shrugs.

Aveline sighs. Not helping then.

Hawke turns to Shepard, grinning. “Remind me to tell you that story. When I’m not trying to convince my oldest friend that I’m me, and not some weird Fade-demon-creature. It’s a great story, I mean, the sword I was impaled by? It was pretty much my height. Maybe even taller.”

Shepard raises an eyebrow, hand still on the handle of her weapon. “How did you even survive that? I mean, no offense, but med tech here sucks.”

Hawke grins. “Magic,” they say, waggling their fingers. “Although, to be honest, I wasn’t right for a week afterwards. I had the weirdest craving for Nevarran Biscuits when I woke up.  I just… wanted to eat 5 dozen of them. The crispy ones with the sugar crystals on top, _not_ the weird soft ones with the nuts in them are the worst. If someone offers you a _soft_ Nevarran biscuit do not eat it.”

“Hawke?” Aveline says softly, in disbelief.

Hawke’s attention falls back to the Guard Captain, but it’s too late. There is a pair of armored arms around them, squeezing tight.

“Really, it’s the biscuits? Not the thrilling tales of adventure or…”

She sniffles, squeezing them tighter. “Of course it was the biscuits, you ass.”

Hawke hugs her back, but there’s a point when getting hugged by a _very_ fit woman in _full armor_ is too much. “Aveline, I appreciate I am not being stabbed, but at this point, I might die from being hugged to death…”

She responds by squeezing them tighter. Okay, wrong thing to say, ouch. “I will not lose you again, Hawke.”

Oh, and she is crying again, isn’t she? They pat her shoulder and try not to tear up as well. It’s hard not to cry when your friend is crying because you were dead, and then you came back to tell her you hadn’t died. It’s all very confusing and, yes, now Hawke is crying too, and it's all touching, emotionally, that is, and there are tears everywhere.

Aveline’s hug softens a little, and Hawke really doesn’t mind that she hasn't let go yet. Aveline isn’t one for physical affection, but she hugs like a champ. They missed this.

Shepard lets out a cough, and Hawke swings out a leg to kick her chair. No. They are going to hug Aveline as long as they need.

Aveline sniffles, taking a breath. “Hawke, what were you even thinking?”

Hawke is about to respond, but she talks over them.

“No, don’t _tell_ me. I don’t want to know.”

Hawke laughs and Aveline finally steps away from the hug, her arms settling awkwardly at her side.

From besides them, Shepard clears her throat again.

“Hi, you must be Aveline,” Shepard offers, standing and extending a hand towards her.

Hawke jumps up, mouth open. Of course, they forgot to introduce her. Terrible host.

“Aveline! This is the lovely Shepard, Savior of Galaxy Space.”

“It’s a pleasure?” Aveline shakes her hand. She mouths _Galaxy Space_ to Hawke and Hawke nods enthusiastically.

“Commander Shepard, Alliance Navy, Council Spectre.”

“Goes by Shepard. Or Commander if you’re kinky,” Hawke adds with a wink.

Aveline’s hand drops as she abruptly turns to Hawke. “Really, Hawke?”

It’s an accusation Hawke is all too familiar with. “I’m not going to lie to you and say I hadn’t thought about it, but no, Aveline, we have not ‘really’...”

Relief washes over her and she rolls her eyes. “Oh, thank the Maker.”

Shepard frowns, cocking her head at her new companion. “Is that a thing you ask frequently?”

Aveline hides her face behind her hand as Hawke goes into very rehearsed speech. Rehearsed in that it seems they’ve read these exact words off a piece of paper. Many times. “When sex is a thing you enjoy, it clearly makes sense to enjoy it frequently. And doubly so with people whose company is enjoyable. ”

This gets a long sigh from Aveline.

“Does that mean that you and she have…?” Shepard points to Aveline.

Taken aback, Aveline shakes her head profusely. “No, we have absolutely not.”

“Not that I didn’t try…” Hawke says sadly. “Although I _did_ die, Aveline…”

“And I recall saying that if you tried to proposition me, or me and my husband, _or my husband_ , again, I would punch you right in the nose. But you did die, so I’ll let you off easy this time.”

Shepard snorts as Hawke waggles their eyebrows. “You’ll _let_ _me off_ easy, huh? I hope not _too_ easy.”

“Hawke… I could punch you somewhere not in the nose,” she warns.

They throw their hands up in defeat again. “Fine, fine. That was the last time. For today.”

Aveline sighs with another roll of her eyes. Ah yes, _there’s_ that note of Aveline-fuelled derision Hawke has missed _so much_.

“If you’re that starved, Isabela will be here in two weeks. I’m sure she’d be happy to warm your bed.” 

But they stop, grin fading. “I’m… not going to be in Kirkwall that long, Aveline.”

They can see the sadness return to Aveline’s face. Shepard attention snaps back up in, also slightly confused at Hawke's statement. 

“What? Why?” 

Shepard's gaze suggests the same question.

They chew their lip for a moment before answering. “I have to get back to the Inquisition as soon as possible… Corypheus is still out there.”

“Maker’s arse, you do, Hawke. I will not send you off to get killed again.”

Hawke scoffs. “Please, this just means we’re even.” They sigh and straighten up, and use that tone of voice that no one ever argues with. “There’s no point arguing. I've made my decision.”

There is a moment when Hawke believes that the statement means the end of it. There would be no arguing, no discussion. 

But Maker, Aveline _argues._


End file.
